[ There are two things, that bring her to the edge of this woman's presence.
The first is a need, the second: a want.
She doesn't think she has to put on the martyrous act, to get what she needs out of her; a round of healing, to make sure she steps back from the edge of fatigue that comes as the consequences of wearing Marazhai's token, the ribbon holding her hair in a high tail. Her blunt fringe does absolutely nothing to hide a bruise or two along her temples, like she's gone and been battered around the head by a fist. But, there's so much less space on her small body; most weapons, fists and teeth, cover more area upon her compared to the bodies of others, and she knows it. She's small, fleet of foot. To survive the violence she invites, she has to be.
Getting some of the injuries attended to is important, since she hasn't much by way of means to mend herself up just yet. ]
Hands like his know how to make it hurt. He was pretty proud of that, too. What's this stuff?
[ Dutifully, she makes the attempt to wiggle her fingers. A staccato up-and-down motion, before she gives them a slow, pained curl. The pain's acute, sudden, bones grinding against themselves. Her stomach rolls, an easy thing to smooth out with the press of her will. ]
Bwoof — [ Mia exhales like the pain's barely containable, anyways. That's the part she'll use to get what she wants. ]
I gotta' — small talk some more. I need the distraction from this. You're like, a healer?
no subject
The first is a need, the second: a want.
She doesn't think she has to put on the martyrous act, to get what she needs out of her; a round of healing, to make sure she steps back from the edge of fatigue that comes as the consequences of wearing Marazhai's token, the ribbon holding her hair in a high tail. Her blunt fringe does absolutely nothing to hide a bruise or two along her temples, like she's gone and been battered around the head by a fist. But, there's so much less space on her small body; most weapons, fists and teeth, cover more area upon her compared to the bodies of others, and she knows it. She's small, fleet of foot. To survive the violence she invites, she has to be.
Getting some of the injuries attended to is important, since she hasn't much by way of means to mend herself up just yet. ]
Hands like his know how to make it hurt. He was pretty proud of that, too. What's this stuff?
[ Dutifully, she makes the attempt to wiggle her fingers. A staccato up-and-down motion, before she gives them a slow, pained curl. The pain's acute, sudden, bones grinding against themselves. Her stomach rolls, an easy thing to smooth out with the press of her will. ]
Bwoof — [ Mia exhales like the pain's barely containable, anyways. That's the part she'll use to get what she wants. ]
I gotta' — small talk some more. I need the distraction from this. You're like, a healer?